Special Delivery
by LM Simpson
Summary: oneshot. The professor arrives at Bianca's hotel room to deliver a package. Bianca has a gift of her own for the professor.


**Title: ** Special Delivery  
**Author: **LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)  
**Pairing(s): **Calculus/Castafiore  
**Warning(s): **PWP  
**Disclaimer: **I am not associated with Moulinsart. You think that they would endorse Tintin porn of any kind, let alone my questionably sound lemons?**  
Other tidbits: ** I ship Professor Calculus and Bianca Castafiore. They need more fandom love.

0000

She waits. She waits, for him.

Bianca waits impatiently in her Swiss hotel suite's bedroom. The professor was supposed to arrive by train and taxi, rendezvous in her room three hours ago.

She grows frustrated. She invested so much into this encounter. Irma is out for the night, a break her mistress insisted she took. She selected her finest lingerie, a sheer, emerald green negligee and white lace garter belt, earlier that day. Drops of her best perfume make themselves home on her neck. The longer she waits, the more she feels that she prepared for a night that will never happen.

Bianca admits, only to herself, that this is perhaps not such a great idea in the first place. She knows the professor, albeit barely. But there was _something_ about him that greatly appealed to her. He did give her roses as a departing gift when she finished her vacation at Captain Spurlock's home, but they were unique flowers, flowers he developed and named after her. That definitely set him apart from the other starry eyed fans that gifted her flowers, jewelry, gems, and designer merchandise.

Perhaps it was his very nature that she liked the best. The hard of hearing professor appeared so innocent, acting like a schoolboy with a crush even at his age. Bianca found his naïve reactions around her adorable, and when she left Marlinspike Hall (and even when she was held captive in San Theodoros), she would briefly attempt to picture whether the professor was the same way in bed. Normally she would reject such men, but he appeared the exception. She just had to find out the answer herself.

Another half hour tacks onto the professor's tardiness. Bianca is wet from fantasizing. She refused to touch herself the whole time. She is getting closer to menopause by the year. Optimal vaginal lubrication is a problem for her (even when she was younger), and she finds it harder to have multiple orgasms a day like the ones she experienced in her late teens and twenties. Staying aroused for this long without touching herself would be an accomplishment in her youth, but even now it was an achievement.

She eventually gives up on waiting. The professor may not be coming after all. The nightingale is not amused, but can always vocally express her opinions later. The matter between her legs is of greater concern at the moment.

Her negligee rises up. Bianca is wearing matching white panties, hi-cut to accommodate for the stomach her apple shaped body gave her. She shifts her hand down and under them, then spreads her lips apart. A flick of her finger across her clit causes her to emit a shudder. Two fingers circle around her engorged clit. They apply apt pressure in the right places like a _shiatsu_ practitioner. Bianca breathes deeply through her nose, in and out, closes her made up eyes. She throws her back against her white linen bed, body slamming the feather pillows in the process. Her fingers are scattering everywhere now: a thumb pressing her clitoris, pinky sliding along the little lips bordering her vagina, the remaining three fingers dipping in and out of her moist, warm cunt. Her other hand is not free; while her dominant hand plays with her pussy her left squeezes her breast, rubs over the erect nipple.

Bianca feels her climax nearing. She works her hands harder and harder. She is so close to plateauing that her head is spinning, and spinning, and spinning—

Then someone knocks on the front door.

"Go away," she mutters in Italian, "I'll be presentable in a moment's time."

There is another knock, as well as a small voice:

"Signora Castafiore! It's me! Do let me in!"

_About time he arrived_, she thinks. Her cunt aches, but if what she planned on happening did so, it would not ache much longer soon. She slips her hands away from her body, covers herself with a white robe, and enters into the living room that holds the main entrance in and out of her suite.

Calculus takes his hat off and places it over his crotch when she opens the door. She smiles. Even loosely covered her lingerie seems to have performed its job well.

"Oh, I, uh—" Calculus stutters. Bianca finds it adorable. "If I was interrupting something by my arrival, I'm—"

"No, no, no!" Bianca says with a laugh and a palm tapping against his shoulder. He stiffens. "Don't be sorry, Professor! You are not interrupting anything important!"

The singer remembers her excuse (well, not excuse, per se, because she genuinely did want what he was supposed to bring regardless). "Do you have any more of your beautiful roses with you per chance, Professor?"

The professor shakes his head. "No, I am afraid they were confiscated when I reached the border."

Bianca pouts. "Oh, boo! What harm could _flowers _do to a Swiss's well being?"

The professor still clutches his hat with both hands. "Please do not despair, Signora! I will do a better job smuggling them next time! Or, at the very least, I will mail you seeds when I return home!"

"That will do. Until then, I have some rosebuds I need you to tend in my bedroom."

"In your bedroom? Why would they be in your bed—"

Bianca grabs his wrists and whisks them towards her. She places each hand over a breast. The hat drops to the ground, revealing a bulge visible even under his moss green coat.

"Oh my!" Calculus interjects. He still stutters, turns red around his cheeks.

"Do you like them, Professor?" Bianca asks. She feels Calculus's cock against her knee as he leans forward.

"Yes… Yes, I do…" His fingers begin squeezing her large breasts. Then, he pulls away.

"Oh, I cannot do it! This is so wrong for me to take you!" He covers his burning face.

"Wrong?" Bianca's mind brings up the brief possibility that maybe the professor was so sweet because he was a man sexually uninterested in women. More than willing to help women indulge in their material love, but not for pleasure in the bedroom. She would not be surprised if that was so. It happened before.

"Yes! I said 'wrong!'" He steps away from Bianca. "Wrong because I want it so bad! Wrong because you want it so bad! Wrong because it means I will not be able to control myself!"

"But Professor, as long as I consent everything is fine with me." She slides a falling sleeve back up.

"No, you do not understand! This such hanky panky is precisely how I lost most of my hearing! Flirted with a woman during university, got into a fight with her boyfriend, and next thing I know I'm in the hospital taking a crash course in lip reading 101!"

"I—"

"Yes! I just confessed it! I know I'm not a little hard of hearing, but rather near deaf!" He points at his ear and continues, "I only wore my hearing aid today so that you would not perceive me as yet another mindless, dimwitted admirer!"

He rubs his temples in the silence. "I… apologize for my brief moment of weakness, Signora. You happen to be the first I've ever told such information out loud. Maybe indeed I am the mindless, dimwitted admirer I feared I would become, wearing my hearing aid as some sort of silly attempt in pleasing the Milanese Nightingale herself! …"

Bianca does not feel amused at his brashness and choking like a chicken, but rather concerned. So many presidents, princes, and other high class businessmen had made fools of themselves attempting to woo her before. But none of them had ever such openly confessed something so intimate yet innocent to her before. The honesty is refreshing.

"Professor, a dimwit does not know how to develop a new type of rose, you know."

Calculus ponders about her words. "Yes, that is true," he eventually says. "But surely you do not want to make love with _me_ of all the people to select."

Bianca steps toward Calculus. She can see that although it has softened a little since he began talking, his cock is still slightly visible. "There are over, what is the number, three billion people in the world, Professor. And tonight, I chose you, out of every single one of everyone else. Think that over for a moment."

She _did_ have a valid point.

Calculus slowly unbuttons his coat, lazily lets it drop onto the floor, and kicks it towards the door.

"Please remove your robe," he says as he gets more comfortable. "I would like a better view of your, erm, assets."

Bianca complies. Calculus, dressed only in an undershirt, boxers, and socks with garters, promptly grabs her boobs, squeezes them.

"Signora," he says, "Your bosom is simply gorgeous, just like you. What I would give to taste them!"

Bianca blushes. "Oh, well! I can't be that _gorgeous_!" She emits a laugh. "I will grant you your heart's content if you let me bring you into my bedroom."

He took her hand and kissed it, still squeezing one boob. "Then do bring me to your chambers, mi'lady."

Bianca pulls him into her bedroom, pushes him onto her bed. She lays on top of him and initiates the first kiss. Calculus sneaks his hands under her negligee and rubs and fiddles with her tits as they smooch. To Bianca's surprise, it is the shy professor that shoves his tongue into her mouth and swirls his around hers. When they break apart, a string of saliva briefly connects the couple.

Before they continue any further Calculus removes his glasses and strains to reach the nearest nightstand.

They resume kissing, Bianca on top of Calculus, for several more minutes. Calculus enjoys the warmth Bianca's body emits and wishes she strips naked faster so that he can feel the heat more directly.

The nightingale, at the professor's indicating pushes, slides off of him. She grabs at the professor's boxers and pulls them down, over his ankles and feet, and onto the ground. The pubic hair surrounding his normal size erection is mostly black, sprinkled with the occasional gray hair to illustrate his age. She gets between his legs and begins sucking about his uncircumcised head after pushing away what foreskin did not fully retract yet. Calculus jerks up by instinct, accompanied with a pleasurable groan. Bianca pushes a hand down his small tummy and glides her tongue down the shaft like a corkscrew, only moving back when she feels her gag reflex ready to kick in.

"Ohhhhh… Signora Castafiore, please turn your body around. I would like to taste you now."

Bianca momentarily pauses, fiddles the garter belt and panties away, and rotates her body so that her cunt is over the professor's face. She emits a (pleasantly) surprised noise before resuming her sojourn with Calculus's length. Calculus, meanwhile, begins slicking his tongue against her vulva, circling her precious pink jewel (while simultaneously placing a finger two knuckles into her aching pussy), licking along the lips and along her opening, before finally sticking his tongue straight into her vagina. He stops briefly when Bianca wets a finger with spit and inserts it into his little pink pucker, then resumes alternatively swirling his tongue around like he did his finger and thrusting it in and out as far as he can like a small cock. Calculus is sure that Bianca is enjoying the reciprocal action as much as he is, judging by her passionate sucking and simultaneous play of his balls and a thumb in his asshole. He enjoys it so much, but feels his is going too close to the edge too soon.

"Signora Castafiore!" He says between frantic licks, "Please stop! If you do not, I'm afraid I will climax very soon!"

Bianca moans. Yes, it feels so wonderful. But he's right. They _must_ stop. They're not even at the best part yet, after all.

Bianca rolls onto her side, readjusts herself so that it's possible for the two to easily see each other face to face. As Calculus recalculates his course of action and takes deep breaths, the singer strips her negligee away from her body and banishes it to the fluffy ash gray carpeted floor. When she regains her sight on the professor he has apparently taken her cue. His undershirt is gone. His socks and garters, however, still remain on his feet.

The professor smiles as he scoots closer. "Ah! It's about time I had a decent look at your body!"

Calculus plants a Castafiore-flavored kiss on her lips as his fingers go to work at her nipples. Bianca feels her tits rising from his kneading. When they achieve full bloom the professor's mouth escapes the singer's and hungrily, blindly, flees towards a large, rosy pink tit. Calculus's tongue is initially clumsy, as if he forgot the first instinct that kept him alive besides breathing when he was a fresh-delivered babe, but more proficiently sucks and nibbles on the nipple as it swiftly polishes its technique.

Not only is Bianca's cunt aching now, but so are her tits. Without a thought she presses her breasts together as Calculus still sucked on one. A slap of the free breast against his cheek causes him to pull away, only to stack his hands onto hers, press them as close together as they can go, and cup his mouth over both tits.

Just the fact that the old, naïve professor was capable of taking advantage of her mindless action like that revs up Bianca's engine even more. She wants him inside her_, now_, to relief tension only arousal can bring and take away.

"Professor! Professor! _Per favore_! _Please _fuck me!"

Another trail of saliva drips between Calculus's mouth and her soaking wet tits. Her boobs flop back into their natural position when both push their hands away. Calculus clumsily searches for oil lubricant on the nightstand where he left his glasses before Bianca assists and hands over the amber container. As he coats his straining purple erection, she spreads her legs as far as they can go and lies down on her back.

Calculus scoots closer to the woman he is about to fuck, holds his slick cock closer to her wet cunt. He does not directly face her, but she sees his is blushing and appears a tad nervous. He breathes deeply in and out once before further spreading her lips and slowly inserting half of himself into her. She emits a cry, a seal of approval, and he slowly lowers himself down. The nightingale's cunt is welcoming, warm and moist in a really good way, and he begins going in and out.

Bianca, to Calculus's pleasure, does not scream like the kind of woman in so many of the dirty books and films he has peeked at over the years. Instead of screaming so often it was clearly just for show, she cries out and moans whenever her vagina responsively pulsates and tenses to his thrusts. Occasionally she snaps "more" and says "oh _sì_, oh _sì_," but does not say much else out loud. He cannot say for sure what her facial reactions are, whether her eyes are open or not and the such, because he is not directly looking at her. But the noises reassure he's doing a good enough job.

He continues, increases speed and refines rhythm. Bianca wraps an arm around his back while the other snakes down her body and plays with her engorged clit. The movements in her pussy become more impulsive and less controllable. Calculus finds himself slowly losing control over his throbbing cock.

Bianca's cries and contractions prompt him to fuck her even harder. He finally faces her when she comes. Her face is flushed, her mouth in a near perfect "O" shape. His cock twinges with delight.

Suddenly, he feels a force on his stomach. The hand that played with her clit pushes him back and she slips him out of her. Bianca begins sucking on his length, now predominately covered with the singer's juices, like it is candy. Calculus grabs at her shoulder as he howls from his forceful orgasm.

The crumbled professor collapses on the bed. Bianca lays on her side against him after she finishes. They pant in near unison and stare at each other. She releases a "whew" from her mouth and laughs with joy.

Calculus joins in. "Forget about me sending a letter. I'll bring the seeds to you myself…"


End file.
